An Angel on Princess Street
by YaoiMeowmaster
Summary: Alcoholic single father Arthur Kirkland gets into yet ANOTHER car accident and is given one last chance to get his life back together. With the arrival of an annoying house guest assigned to help this process along, it becomes clear that the family is even more broken that Arthur had first realized. Will Arthur be able to turn things around or will his inner demons win once again?
1. Chapter 1

_**Notes:**_

_Hello, Before you continue I have a few words to say. First of all, thank you so much in advance for clicking on this fic as well as any reviews, follows or bookmarks you would like to leave. This fic is my 2014 NaNoWriMo Project and so much of the story as already been written, but I would love to hear your thoughts on what you'd like to happen or whatever you think is going to happen. _  
><em><strong>WARNING:<strong> This work contains a number of elements that may be potentially triggering and/or hardhitting. _

_Please Please take a few moments to leave some recognition when you're done! I'm not the kind of person to withhold chapters until x amount of feedback, but it does motivate me to work a little faster. In any case, thank you again and have fun reading my fic. _

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><p>Of all the alcoholics that came to this dark and dirty pub on Canal Street, the most prominent of them all by far, was Arthur Kirkland. If he hadn't had a job and kids to attend to at home, Arthur would have probably spent every waking moment inside the establishment until he was forced out for closing time. By then, he'd likely sit and weep until the barman came around to open it back up for the night, letting the patrons of the twilight enter for the medication they needed to withstand the dreariness of their lives for another day.<p>

The already cheap drink was made even cheaper by the fact that Arthur was a lightweight; it took only a dribble for him to start flooding the troubles away. His usual drink of choice was the stuff of pirates, hard shit for hard times while sailing upon a sea of tears, rum. Despite the fact that Arthur usually opted for the stronger stuff, regardless of the actual alcohol content of the drink, he seemed to always succumb to intoxication after just one glass.

"Another one…barkeep." Demanded Arthur after a brief hiccup, pounding his empty glass on the bar to make a point. There was a moment of silence as annoyance flashed in the bartender's eyes. Pulling out a wad of cash, Arthur clumsily displayed it, eyes bleary. With a wry smirk, the bartender accepted the payment and did just as Arthur asked, handing him a drink that seemed to be worth much less than what had been paid. Even if Arthur had noticed the cheating tactic, he didn't protest. If he had to pay a little bit extra to get his medicine, so be it. It was worth it.

Now that he had his beer goggles on, Arthur paused to look around the pub's interior. It hadn't changed much since yesterday. A couple of woman his age toasted their drinks and denounced men while a group of underage kids tried hard not to look suspicious while they drank beer. Arthur turned back to glance at his own drink and was mortified by the reflection glaring back at him. Who was that sullen looking man with such a pained expression? Tilting his head to one side like a curious puppy, Arthur tried to smile. The result was unnerving. He decided instead to devour the man within the drink, tipping his glass and gulping it all down again. A hellish burn that was so sweetly addictive rushed down his throat, adding to the fiery anger swirling in his belly.

"It's all her fault you know." Said Arthur, shifting on the stool and looking up. The bartender grunted in what seemed to be vague approval.

"Women." He mumbled.

"Damn woman." Arthur took another sharp swig of his glass and winced, leaning over and coughing into his fist. Arthur pounded his chest and sniffled, not from sadness but from the sudden shortness of breath he had found himself with "Ah…I… used to have a wife you know."

"Mmm." Nodded the bartender, focused on getting a particularly stubborn stain out of the bottom of a beer glass with a rag filthier than the streets of Manchester.

"I met her while I was on vacation out of the country." Said Arthur. A sad sigh escaped him and he glanced up at the ceiling, staring up and lifting the glass to his gaping mouth.

"She died?" asked the bartender.

Arthur looked back at the other without taking a drink, eyes wide. He gave a short laugh full of anguish. "Ha. No no no no no." He said. "No, nothing of that sort. Although…"

"Left you for a better man?"

"Hardly!" scoffed Arthur, scowling and narrowing his eyes in disgust. "Better man. Oh sure, if you think a dustpan is better than a vacuum than feel free to 'upgrade'! Makes absolutely perfect sense to me!" he said, gripping his glass tightly again and draining the contents. He looked down at the emptiness and could feel a similar sense of hollow being within his heart. Arthur turned away and withdrew another wad of money, placing it on the bar and tapping the wood with his knuckles. "Let's keep this conversation going…"

Getting the message, the bartender quickly served Arthur his third drink of the night. He wondered how much longer this charade was going to last. Arthur seemed to be making less sense every minute and once the bartender returned with a refill, the poor soul started spilling his guts again.

"In spite of everything…how…cruelly she left me. I supposed I'd be lying if I said I never wanted to see her again." He said, slumping over onto the bar sluggishly, playing with the indents on the glass. "And I know I can say the same for my kids." He said, shaking his head and taking a sip to get the courage to talk about this painful experience some more.

"How could she. Maybe I wasn't the prince of all husbandry, but how could she be so cruel to our kids. I'm no asexual creature, they have her DNA too you know!" he ranted, shaking his head. "Leaving me with damn kids. Damn kids with her damn face that I have to stare at every day, reminding me that she's not here." He said, hands shaking in anger. Another quick chug.

"But- mmmm, alright. Alright." Said Arthur, hiccuping. Listen, mmm, don't get me wrong, I love Atthew and Malfre- Uh. Affew. Math. My sons. Two of them." He said, holding up three fingers.

"Uhuh." Said the bartender, focusing on his stubborn stain again.

"Alfred…Alfred is my first one." Said Arthur with a smile. "He's 16…and he's a pain in my rear end if there ever was one. A big, fat rear in the literal sense." Arthur laughed and shook his head, squinting. "I mean, it's like, it's like, every time I get something new to put in the cupboard for groceries and what…whatevernot you know, you know what I'm talking about. In any case, Alfred looks at it, gets his grubby hands on it and, WOOSH, it's all gone down his greedy gullet. Absolutely nothing left for anybody else, or maybe he leaves the crumbs." Arthur tilted his class up, holding his finger up to pause the conversation as he emptied it. A slow exhale escaped him as he shook his head.

"Where was I…ah yes, so like I was saying, what was happening is that essentially, I told him. I told him, 'Don't you have absolutely ANY consideration for the rest of this family you great fat pig? There are other people in this house besides you, even though God knows it's a wonder how we can manage to fit in here with your lard ridden disgusting body waddling about." Spat Arthur, licking his lips and looking down at the empty glass, tilting it up once more to get at the last few droplets.

The bartender nodded noncommittally and Arthur felt his cheeks redden. "Well…okay, perhaps I'm…extending the truth to a certain extent, but he is a little frustrating to deal with, surely you understand what I'm talking about? Well even if you don't have kids, it's alright." He rambled. "He's such a problem…but…" Arthur slumped on the bar again with a sigh, smiling gently.

"I wish you could see his smile…Alfred he…he…" A brief burp escaped him. "Well for one thing it's much better than Matthew's, even though that child rarely smiles, Good. But in any case, Alfred, oh when we're not having a go at each other he's almost always laughing and joking around." Said Arthur. "Fun loving and all, but I only wish he would learn that play time needs to be put aside for some hard work as well." He said, reaching into his wallet and pulling out the last few bits of paper, practically throwing them at the bartender.

The bartender looked disdainfully at the crumbled bills. "Haven't you had enough?" he said at last, provoking Arthur's wrath.

"No! I'm not DONE yet!" whined Arthur, slamming his hand down on the bar hard before hissing. "Aahahah…that hurts." He said, blowing on his hand before knocking on the bar again. "What is this…oak? Cedar?" he asked.

"This is your last one." Growled the bartender, growing irritated with Arthur's presence already. He filled the glass up and handed it back to Arthur.

"Last bit. Ha." Said Arthur, tracing the pattern of the wood with his finger. "I'm almost done anyhow." He said, shrugging as he drank half in one go and sighed. "M…mmm…Matthew." He said. "Now there's a no trouble child. Perfect kid. Brings home straight A's, works hard, he's just like me. So mellow, easygoing." He purred.

"But he gets easily confused. Sometimes he likes to think that he's the adult." Said Arthur slowly, narrowing his eyes and straightening up. "I can do whatever I bloody hell want to do- he can't give me silly advice or take matters into his own hands. How dare he…little daydreamer. Whatever makes me happy makes me happy! That's the final word!" he exclaimed, nodding as though he had said something quite poignant before turning the glass upside down, the rest of the drink disappearing into his mouth.

"Alright, that's it, out you go." Said the bartender, lifting the partition so that he could literally drag Arthur out of the pub if necessary.

Arthur weakly tilted his head and groaned, suddenly jumping to his feet and stumbling forward. "Ugh…get…just get away from me." He said, shaking a fist and immediately using that hand to grab onto the bar so that he wouldn't fall over. "I don't need your help."

"Are you sure?" asked the bartender, wary of how Arthur wobbled.

"You heard me the first time, brother!" spat Arthur, clutching his forehead and shaking his head. "Just give me a second…" Arthur mumbled incoherently as he checked his pockets to make sure his wallet and car keys were still there, as well as his cell phone. Find everything in its proper place, he took a deep breath and stomped his way out the door.

As soon as he made his way onto the sidewalk, Arthur bumped into someone, flying back like a pinball. His back slammed back against the door he had just closed and a pang of pain rocketed up his spine. "Ugh! Terribly sorry. Ow…" As a result of the sudden movement, Arthur found his stomach disagreeing loudly and he doubled over to hug himself. "Oh dear… that's not settling very well right now oh…" he whined.

"Oooh I'm so sorry, are you alright?" asked the man, peering close. Arthur's vision was so bleary, he couldn't make out any features of the person who had bumped into him, but he could tell by the voice that it was definitely a male.

"I'm fine, ugh, really, whatever, carry on with your day…evening, night. Sir." He said, taking a deep breath so as to not vomit all over the stranger. He shook his head to try and clear it and reached for the keys in his pocket, stumbling towards his car.

"You're not thinking of driving are you?" came the voice of the stranger. Arthur yelped in surprise, his keys dropping with a jingle to the sidewalk. Of course he was thinking of driving, how else was he supposed to get home to make dinner for the kids? He sure as hell couldn't flap his arms and fly.

"Wah- Well, what's it to you?" he grumped, bending over to pick his keys up.

"Ha, from the way you look right now, you look likely to kill a poor soul." Said the stranger sadly, voice growing louder and accompanied with footsteps. "Including yourself, don't you think you're better off waiting until tomorrow?" Arthur was quiet for a moment.

"I appreciate your concern." Said Arthur carefully, trying hard to sound sober. "However, I am not that drunk."

"Oh come on…there's a nice motel not too far from here that I can take you too, and it's pretty cheap for a-"

"Are you a prostitute!?" snarled Arthur, turning around and pressing himself back against the car. The stranger had put his hand on Arthur's back as he spoke and the unfamiliar gentle gesture unnerved him very much so. Arthur could see the hurt confusion in the stranger's eyes as he struggled to realize Arthur's reaction.

"What!? N-No I only meant-"

"I have a WIFE!" hissed Arthur in disgust. "Get out of here you…you filthy little bilge rat!"

"What a terribly unlucky woman." Snarked the stranger back, surprising Arthur with how venomous it had been. "Maybe I was wrong. Go on and get in the car, hopefully she'll be freed of you by tonight."

Arthur froze, feeling a lump grow in his throat as he heard the stranger turn and strut away. He could clearly hear that controlled storm of rage with every footstep clamping down on the sidewalk. Arthur shuddered. He felt like an idiot.

"Yeah well…at least I'm freed of you…crazy git." Mumbled Arthur to himself, even though the stranger was a long ways out of earshot. He shoved his keys inside the lock and climbed inside the car, hiccuping and groaning as he put his seatbelt on and went on his typical routine. He popped a stick of spearmint gum in his mouth, chewing to try to wake himself up a bit.

As he pulled the car into gear, Arthur's mind already started to wander and think about what would be best to bring home. Chinese? No. Pizza? Perhaps. Maybe it would be best to call them. Reaching into his pocket, Arthur quickly dialed the younger of his two sons, Matthew. Sure, he had seen many campaigns on being on your phone while driving, but seeing as how he was already drunk perhaps flirting with Death would make it blush and spare him.

Matthew answered on the fifth ring. "Yeah…" he said, speaking so softly Arthur had to strain to hear.

"Mafflrewred." Slurred Arthur, groaning and shaking his head, trying to remember how to pronounce his son's name.

"Dad." Said Matthew weakly. "Where are you?"

"Where I always am, dear boy?" he chirped, sitting upright suddenly. "But don't you worwor- worry." Arthur cleared his throat. "And keep Alfthew away from the biscuits, I'm driving home with food. Well I mean I will..be GETTING the food soon, yes."

"Wha? Dad be careful- " Matthew sniffed. "Oh my gosh- we're gonna be orphans." He gulped and sighed heavily before exhaling long and hard. Arthur felt an overwhelming curtain of shame simply crush him.

"Aha…don't…don't say that." Said Arthur, mind so bleary he couldn't tell which was the brake and which was the accelerator anymore.

"Where is that jackass already?" said Alfred in the background of the phone, amid Matthew annoyed moans. Arthur tightened his grip on the wheel.

"I'm coming…I'm coming…" he said, hand shaking as he took his own deep shuddering breath. A gasp escaped Arthur then. Orphan. He was the only thing his kids had. Why?

Because of her.

Because of his dear, lovely wife.

He felt his eyes stinging, heavy from the weight of salty tears that blurred his vision, his heart pounding. This was too much to bear, this agony, this hollow pain. A strangled pathetic weeping noise escaped Arthur. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel in frustration, honking the horn and swerving.

"Dad…Dad!"

"Why…my little flower…" he sobbed, leaning forward and feeling the sleepiness overtake him. The cell phone dropped from his hands and he leaned forward, wanting to reach out to his wife. The speedometer arrow turned wildly and the car surged forward violently. There was horrendous crunching noise of metal scrunching up like an accordion. The car stopped so suddenly that Arthur, already so close to the windshield, bashed his skull against the cracked pane and succumbed to the blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

"Let me make my damn phone call!"

"Sir, please."

"I can remember the number this time- in fact, I never forgot it!"

"Sir, I'm going to need you to-"

"It's the phones fault! All the keys have gone wrong. Nothing is where it's supposed to be!"

Arthur scowled as his hands tightened around the bars of his cell. He was beyond furious, wishing to almighty heaven that he could just summon some magnificent strength and pull them apart. "AUGH! You useless piece of macaroni!" he shouted, rattling the bars with an angry kick before sitting down onto the bench to sulk. The officer watched Arthur warily as the resounding clang of metal dissipated before he took a deep breath and confronted Arthur.

"I've given you more than enough chances to call both your attorney and your relatives and you were unable to contact them. You're not getting the phone again."

"Of course I couldn't contact them!" exclaimed Arthur looking up and crossing his arms. A hiccup escaped him before he continued. "You've crossed a wire wrong, that's what you do- purposefully sabotage me so that I'm forced to sit in these abominable accommodations."

"Sir!" Snapped the officer sternly, making Arthur flinch and lean back a bit. "If you enjoy having free reign to a telephone." The officer continued. "Then you should have thought about that before driving while intoxicated. Now if you don't stop making a fuss, I will come in there and handcuff you again. Do you understand?"

Arthur swallowed hard and lowered his head, wanting so much to rise to this injustice, but his shoulders still ached from being handcuffed before. To compromise between an act of defiance and submission, Arthur said nothing, refusing to answer the officer's question while at the same time remaining calm. Calm on the outside at least. Within his head was a storm of emotions that threatened to capsize his brain and mentally drown him. Satisfied with the response, the Officer turned tail on him and went back to his post nearby.

Arthur resigned himself to do what he was supposed to be doing in the first place, sit in this dank, miserable room and think about the actions that had led up to this sad point in his life. Arthur was furious at the officer for being such a git, but he was even angrier at the tree that had just teleported in front of his car, causing the crash. Most of all, he was frustrated with himself. A sigh escaped him as he gingerly brushed his fingers against his bandaged head, feeling his skull throb at even the softest touch.

He had awoken from his blackout with a white light shining directly in his face, the force of the brightness nearly burning his retinas out. Although Arthur had been dazed and confused, he was very much alive and the man with the flashlight was relieved. In fact, the man with the flashlight had been so cheerful for Arthur's survival that he had instantly broken out the handcuffs and slapped them on Arthur, shoving him into the backseat of his police vehicle. With every wail of the sirens, Arthur cried wearily in tune with them, for every piercing screech pounded his weary brain harder and harder.

Arthur hadn't put up much of a fight while being processed; he was used to this sort of thing. What seemed to have triggered his volcano of rage was the tone in which one of the officers spoke while restating Arthur's criminal record.

"Mmm. Astounding, it's this bloke's third count of driving under the influence in this year alone."

"Christ." Commented the female officer. Arthur looked up, balling his hands up into fists behind his back, the chain of the handcuffs rattling. "How many in the other years?"

"Tch." Said the first officer, closing the folder and exhaling. "You don't wanna know."

"How DARE YOU!" Arthur snapped, lunging forward. He had forgotten that his hands were both bound together and tied the back of a chair. He screamed out as he tripped over his own legs and collapsed to the floor like a pile of cookie crumbs. "You have NO clue who the hell I am!" he said, flailing and trying to figure out which way was up. "Do you hear me?! I'm the bloody Reaper!"

"Oh god." Said the female officer with a sigh, putting her hand on her face to try to hide her smile. "Put him in the drunk tank until he calms down.

"Calm?!" exclaimed Arthur as two other guards approached him from behind and disentangled him from the chair. "I'll show you calm, I can show you exactly what calm is if you get these STUPID handcuffs off me!" he said, shaking as he was lifted by the floor. He wavered on his feet, unsteady. "I said, getitoff! My shoulders are going to fall off!"

His whining was ignored and Arthur was shoved inside of an empty cell and left alone so that he could seize and hiss like a child throwing a tantrum. After realizing that nobody was paying any attention to him, Arthur's energy eventually ebbed. His mind, while still foggier than a day in London, cleared just enough for him to realize what he had to do.

Arthur needed to make two very important phone calls for the sake of his liberation. One to his son Alfred, so that he could explain what had happened let them know that he was alright, and another to his attorney, Antonio, so that he could get the hell out of here and back to his family.

While Arthur had managed to convince the officer in charge of supervising him that he was rational enough to make a phone call, the reality was that he could barely dial the right combination of numbers to reach anyone on the planet. After about a dozen failed attempts, the officer had lost his patience and took the phone back until Arthur sobered up completely, something that probably wouldn't be happening until morning came.

But Arthur was so tired he seemed beyond the need for sleep. He was in a state in which he was so exhausted, his brain could do nothing but continue chugging a slew of toxic thoughts that poisoned his being. How had it come to this yet again.

"Caramba Arthur, you just don't know when to quit do you?"

Arthur's eyes flew open and he looked up with a gasp. A relieved grin spread on his face in spite of his situation and he flew up to the bars. "Oh Toni, thank goodness you're here, I-"

"Ay, no. You shut up." Snapped Antonio in cold irritation as the guard opened up the cell for him. He walked in with a frown frown, glaring at Arthur with such an intensity that Arthur felt as though he would be made someone's bitch tonight.

Arthur backed away and cleared his throat, averting his eyes from the smoldering stare. "Oi…listen-"

"I said, shut up! Cállate!" insisted Antonio angrily. "What the hell is matter with you, ah? Seriously, I want to know. Are you crazy? Hmm? Are you?"

It seemed typical that Antonio would ask Arthur questions while simultaneously demanding his silence. Truthfully, Antonio was at heart a pretty easygoing and kind of mild mannered kind of guy, at least, until he was pushed too far. In all honesty, Arthur couldn't blame Antonio for being so irrevocably angry with him and his frequent antics.

Still, Arthur felt like a child being publicly scolded by his furious mother. Coughing lightly to try to ease the awkward tension in the air, Arthur realized that there was another pressing matter that hadn't occurred to him until now. "How did you know where I was?" he asked quickly, before Antonio could silence him again.

Antonio sighed deeply and shook his head. He crossed his arms and glared at Arthur. "Oh, you want to know? You want to know how I found out your estupido ass was in here again? Guess, just guess." He ranted, panting hard, his cheeks flushed a light red.

Before Arthur could start playing Jeopardy with Antonio, the lawyer had caught his breath and continued on passionately. "I got a call…from Matthew, in tears Arthur, TEARS, because he said that you were on the road, so drunk that boy could smell you through that phone and BOOM. Nothing. That boy thought you had died. Then Alfred in the background trying to calm him down, and it's not working Arthur!" exclaimed Antonio, leaning in close. He licked his lips and shook his head, pulling back and putting a hand on his head.

"What hurt me the most is what Alfred said. You wanna know what he said?" asked Antonio.

Arthur felt his throat go dry, his heart pounding in shame and humiliation, knowing that he deserved every decibel of Antonio's shouted berating. "Yes." He said hoarsely.

"Alfred said, and I quote Arthur." Said Antonio, pausing and lifting up his hands as he caught his breath again. " 'Don't worry Mattie, this is just like last time.' What kind of shit is that?"

Arthur closed his eyes and shuddered before looking up. "Alfred and Matthew." He gasped, biting his lip for a moment and turning around, feeling anxiety build up in him so much he couldn't stand still. "They're not alone are they? I mean- Oh god…"

"Thanks to me, no." Said Antonio with a huff. "I called one of my friends to look after them, make them dinner, and help them relax. Tch, Arthur, I don't know, you're lucky you still have them after all of this!" he said, anger rising up again. "Look at you! You're here, stinking of cheap alcohol while god knows what happening to them at home, Ay ay ay ay." Said Antonio, shaking his head back and forth and groaning. "I don't know how you can live with yourself. You so selfish."

"Selfish!?" exclaimed Arthur having had enough of Antonio's brutal beat down. "How dare you say that I'm selfish, after all that I'm doing for them!"

Antonio sucked his teeth in disgust. "Please, Arthur. I think, that when Hana left you, she should have taken them away with her because I have no clue how they're not dead yet."

Arthur felt his heart ache, this final blow finally leaving a wound upon him. How dare he mention her name. How could he speak it with his unworthy tongue and mention that moment. Arthur looked down, panting softly, as though he had literally been punched and felt the air escape his lungs. He found the cracks on the floor remarkably interesting and focused his attention on them, following their wayward paths with his eyes.

Antonio seemed to have regretted this overly violent dig almost instantly, especially after seeing Arthur's reaction. "Pardona me…" he apologized softly, approaching and putting his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "That was too much. I shouldn't have said that."

Arthur said nothing. He was too embarrassed to even speak, green eyes having grown dull and sad, swimming in a wet pool of his agony.

"You didn't deserve what happened to you." Continued Antonio. "No one does. I can't even imagine how upset you are. It's just…" he swallowed and took a deep breath. "I hate to watch you throwing your life away like this, like it just means nothing."

Drip. Down went a tear, not because Arthur was crying out of sadness, no of course not. It was gravity, that greedy demon, pulling down on him, tugging on Arthur's stomach, digging at his eyes and making everything droop and sag. He swallowed hard. He knew that Antonio had seen the little puddle and was grateful that his friend didn't mention it. A pat on his shoulder and Arthur found himself able to sidle away from the edge of insanity, licking his lips and shuddering a bit.

"They're in good hands, for tonight." Said Antonio. "I swear to you Arthur. I never would have come here, if I had even a little bit of thought that maybe Alfred and Matthew wouldn't be safe. I would have stayed there overnight myself and came here in the morning."

Arthur nodded quickly. "O-Of course. I wouldn't want them to see me like this." He muttered. "Thank you- so they'll be well fed and watched over during the night?"

Antonio nodded with a gentle smile. "Si. You don't have to worry about them, okay? Now, listen." Antonio's smile faded as he started to get serious. "Listen, it's going to be really hard to get you out of this mess this time, my friend." He said honestly. "At the very least, it's going to be a while until you get your license back." He said.

"Oh dear." Said Arthur closing his eyes. "It might take a while to fix the car anyhow…" he said. "Until when?"

"Six months at the least." Said Antonio. Arthur's eyes widened.

"Excuse me? Six months!" exclaimed Arthur, scoffing. "How am I going to look having to take the underground everywhere?"

"If everyone else can get by on it, you can too." Snapped Antonio suddenly, narrowing his eyes in irritation at Arthur's gargantuan ego. Arthur meekly waited for Antonio to say something along the lines of how Arthur should have thought about that possibility before driving the car while drunk, but was infinitely grateful when it didn't come.

"Can you get me out of here?" he asked.

"I'll try." Said Antonio with a nod, his voice sounding solid. That confidence gave Arthur a little bit more faith in his situation. Now he was sure that Antonio would be able to pull him out of this mess. "You're going to have to stay here overnight though."

"What!?" exclaimed Arthur. "But- why can't you get me out of here now?" he asked, wary about spending a night in jail. Antonio shook his head.

"You're still drunk, so they're not going to let you go."

"But the last time."

"The last times, I drove you home." Said Antonio firmly. "And the way your car is now, I'd have more luck driving you home in a banana."

"But theres-"

"Oh…so NOW the underground is good enough for you?" said Antonio bitterly, averting his eyes and folding his arms. He exhaled sharply. "Forget it okay? It'll do you some good to wait here until the trial."

Arthur could hardly believe his ears. "W-Woah woah, wait just a minute, are you kidding me?" he said, feeling the blood start to rush through him. "First you say overnight and now I have to wait until trial? You can't be serious! You're just being…being a great big ASS!" he exclaimed, looking up and scowling.

Antonio stood his ground. "Listen, it's not to punish you, it's-"

"Let me call Alfred on your phone." Said Arthur suddenly, holding out his hand.

Antonio paused, forgetting what he was about to say and laughed instead. Arthur wasn't quite so sure what was so amusing about his request. "You're joking, no?" said Antonio with a smirk.

"No." Said Arthur stiffly, through gritted teeth. "I'm not."

"Then, you must be out your damn mind." Said Antonio, exhaling and unfolding his arms. "Like I'm going to let you-"

"LET me?" roared Arthur. "That's MY son!"

"And it's MY telefono!" countered Antonio. "Besides, YOU were the one who said that you didn't want them to see you like this! Don't you think you've done enough to them tonight?"

"You know what, I don't care! Shut up! Fuck off! Just fuck off Antonio." He said sulking like a child denied a candy bar. "Get out of my face, get out. Go away, you piss me off."

Antonio laughed hollowly, shrugging his shoulders. "Oh yeah…oh sure, yes, fuck me, fuck me the one who's been helping you this whole time. Guard!"

As the officer came back and opened the door for Antonio to leave, Arthur found himself shaking again. What did Antonio know? Absolutely nothing!

"You're going to end up alone Arthur." Said Antonio. "They gonna take you're kids, you gonna push me away and then you going to be all alone with no one but yourself to blame."

Arthur hugged himself even tighter, saying nothing. He flinched when he heard the rattle of the cell door slamming shut. He shook lightly. Even if Antonio was right, it wasn't as thought it would even matter in the end.

After all.

Arthur was quite used to being alone.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Notes:<em>**

_Thanks for reading! Please don't forget to leave a review, follow and a bookmark, it really supports me as I write this. Also, share this with your friends and spread the love all around! I could never have accomplished this without YOU, the reader, loyal to the end._

_Antonio's Spanish Translations:_

_Caramba: Exclamation equivalent to "Damn!"_

_Cállate: Shut up_

_estupido: Stupid_

_Ay yi yi: Exasperated phrase equivalent to "Oh God"_

_Pardona me: Forgive me_

_telefono: Phone_

_For anyone worried that I will do this to other characters, rest easy. I simply know from experience that we (as Spanish speakers) tend to slip into using random spanish words, particularly when we're feeling a little emotional. Some of these words may be somewhat obvious, but I just wanted to make sure I didn't exclude anyone. In any case, see you again in the next chapter!_


	3. Chapter 3

When Arthur awoke, he found the incredible yet familiar pain in his head so annoying that he had forgotten where he was. He reached out to the side to pick up a cup of water on the nightstand but found to his surprise that no matter how much he groped the empty air, he just grasp his fingers around the cup. Opening his eyes reluctantly, Arthur's firsthand view of the mold growing on the ceiling of his cell prompted the memory of last night to come forward to him in a rush.

Recalling that horrid arrangement of events made Arthur sick to his stomach. The way that he had behaved…it just wasn't like him. Arthur was still fuzzy on the details of his encounters but judging by the emotions that resurfaced, it was probably best if he didn't try to hard to remember just how badly he had embarrassed himself.

The first thing he had to do was get out of this disgusting place. His back was already aching from sleeping on the hard bench with a blanket that had made toilet paper seem warm and toasty. Arthur wished so badly to get back home as soon as he could and plop his rear in a comfy chair just to sleep the hours, days, weeks and years away. An overwhelming sense of fatigue weighed him down. Even though he was in an incredibly uncomfortable position, there just seemed to be something preventing him from moving a muscle. Although Arthur didn't feel frozen…there was a certain stiffness about him. It was as though the struggle of trying to get through every day with almost robotic intention had prompted the formation of rust on his very being.

It was incredibly hard for Arthur to get the motivation to even lift a finger. He swallowed, slowly raising his arm and gripping a bar of the cell tightly, trying to pull himself up. "Excuse me, please." He muttered softly, trying to get the attention of the nearest guard.

Evidently pleased by Arthur's flip in demeanor, the guard acknowledged him and approached the cell. "Yeah?"

"Can you please…let me out now?" asked Arthur softly, touching his other hand to his head. The bandages seemed loose and his clothes felt sticky. Evidently, his fitful sleep had been accompanied with nervous sweating. Arthur could only imagined how pathetic and foul he looked, not to mention smelled.

"Afraid not, ." Said the guard. "There has been a bail set for you, but I can't release you unless it's been posted. It's going to be £5,000. Cash only. The lawyer set it up for you the night before."

Arthur felt the pang in his head intensify. Five thousand pounds was nothing for him, but cash only was what made this situation even more problematic for Arthur. Antonio must have known that it was impossible for Arthur to be able to put up that kind of money if he was stuck in the cell. That must have meant that…he intended for Arthur to stay.

Concerned by Arthur's silence and feeling much more willing to be helpful now that he wasn't behaving so bratty, the officer coughed lightly and continued. "You have anyone else that can post it up for you?"

"Ah…yes." Said Arthur, still seeming lost in his own self-pity. He looked up and nibbled his lower lip before taking a deep breath. "May I make a phone call?"

"Are you sure you remember it this time?" said the guard with a friendly grin, turning around to get it.

Arthur didn't smile. "Thank you." He said, taking the phone through the bars. Looking at the number pad, Arthur took another deep breath, so that the oxygen could at least help his gunked up brain as best as it could. He took his time dialing the number, deliberately pressing every key slowly and mumbling it aloud to make sure that it was absolutely right. The only variable present now that could possibly bite him in the ass would be if it was too early in the morning, then the boys would be too sluggish to answer the phone after being shaken out of a lovely dream.

Arthur heard the phone ring once. Then twice. On the third ring, Arthur squeezed his hand into a fist and closed his eyes, trying to use psychic energy to get someone to the phone as soon as possible. Fourth ring. Arthur felt his whole body tense up, his breathing growing ragged. Fifth ring. Arthur wished he could just squeeze in through the mouthpiece and travel along the electrical wires. Sixth Ring. If they didn't pick up, they had better be dead.

A pause. As soon as Arthur heard his own voice on the answering machine, he hung up. The phone damp in his sweaty hand, bandages on his forehead already peeling away on their own accord. The officer came forward to take the phone back.

"No! No- wait." Begged Artur, holding up a hand. "Let me just call one other person. Please, just, one more chance to try them instead. One more."

The guard folded his arms and nodded. "One more." He agreed, standing close and watching Arthur carefully.

Arthur nodded back quickly and punched in his house number again. This was literally his last chance to get out of this sordid little hell hole. His meager family was the only thing in his life that he could even barely rely on anymore.

As the phone rung again, Arthur glared at it in desperation. They were going to pick up. They just had to. Otherwise…

"Allo?"

Arthur was speechless

"Allo? Who is this calling?"

A Frenchman. A man who ommited the H entirely and converted the TH and S into an animalistic Z sound. Of all the people that Antonio could have left his children with, it had to be someone from the land of chocolate, sex and coffee. Feeling a strange sense of aggressive nationality overtake him. In his response, he took great care in enunciation, radically different from his normal crude manner of nonstop complaints slurring into one another like a great big smoothie.

"THiS. IS. ArTHur." He said carefully, as though the other was both slow and hard of hearing. "Let me SPeak. to Alfred."

"Oooh! Arthur!" said the Frenchman. Arthur winced visibly at how badly the other had butchered his name in that thick frog accent. "Are you on your way home now? Antonio told me that you had missed your bus back home from your holiday yesterday!" gushed the Frenchman cheerfully.

Arthur sputtered in confusion. "My…holiday." He repeated, feeling both embarrassed and relieved that Antonio hadn't told his friend the truth about Arthur's absence. "Aah, actually there's been another snag, I've uh..managed to get my wallet nicked so I- can you put my son on?" he said, not exactly eager to spin up a story only to eventually suffocate on his own web of lies.

"Oh no!" exclaimed the Frenchman in sympathy. "No no no! That's horrible! You have just got to stay out of the dark alleys of Italy, they're ruthless there. Aaah still, I'd love to go to Italy sometime…" he gushed. "Their art is just incredible. Oh I'd want to go to a museum and see the work of all the great masters, no? And the architecture! I've heard that it's just so beautiful!"

Damn romantics. "Italy is certainly a fine place." Said Arthur truthfully. "The Colosseum is an astounding sight to behold even now." Catching the look on the guard's face, Arthur grew frantic about the nature of this chitchat, not even listening to what the Frenchman said back other than the fact that in the midst of all that chatter, he had introduced himself as Francis.

"Francis!" interupted Arthur. "Listen- I'm calling from a pay phone and this is my last coin, so I'd really appreciate if you'd let me speak to Alfred now." He said, patience wearing thin.

"Ah! Oh but of course, here you are." Said Francis. Arthur was instantly blessed with the voice of his elder son.

"Sup pops." Said Alfred.

Arthur took a moment and sighed softly, smiling and already feeling his heart warm up. Even though Alfred was still home, Arthur already felt he closeness of his son brightening his mood. "Heey…" he said softly, so grateful to hear Alfred again. It had felt like years since Arthur had even seen him. "How are you doing?"

"Oh me?" said Alfred with a snicker. "Oh yeah I'm cool, just kinda wondering why the heck you left me and Matthew all alone to starve and shit while you teleported all the way to Italy."

Arthur flushed red again. "Oh- Alfred, I'm not."

"It's a joke man!" interrupted Alfred. "You know, kinda like you?"

Arthur could just see that cocky grin Alfred probably had on even now. "You watch you mouth when you're talking to me!" snapped Arthur suddenly, his initial enthusiasm ebbing. Alfred was quite annoying at times, always stepping out of line and making it so terribly hard to love him.

"Whatchu gonna do about it?" countered Alfred. "Why should I listen to some dude sitting in a crusty old cell somewhere?"

"Because this 'dude' is your father!" exclaimed Arthur. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Getting riled up would do no good and he was already starting to feel dizzy from the blood pulsing in his head. "Alfred please…I've had a really, really terrible night. I have a headache…the car is wrecked, and I need you to come pick me up."

"So you DID crash the car." Noted Alfred so bluntly that Arthur winced. Snorting, Alfred went on. "Yeah, I thought that's what I heard before the phone died. So. What? Are your legs broken or something? Can't you walk home?"

"No. I. Can't." Snarled Arthur through clenched teeth, wounded at how cold and selfish Alfred was. Of course, he didn't know why Alfred's actions even surprised him anymore. This was a constant struggle. He knew that teenagers just couldn't help but be egocentric, something to do with their brains not being fully developed, but it still hurt. "Alfred, listen. I am begging you, literally begging you now. Just listen to me for once. Just pretend. Can you do that? Pretend, please that for once you're actually a good kid if you can't be one. Pretend. Just for today."

Arthur heard Alfred suck his teeth before huffing and snickering again. Everything just seemed to be a joke to this kid. "Fine, whatever." Agreed Alfred. "But seriously, why do you nee me?"

"I need you to bring money?"

"Like I have any."

"Well." Said Arthur with a sniff. "You do know that wouldn't be the case if you got off of your fat ass and got yourself a job." He said, scowling and gripping the phone tightly. "As you know, there's plenty of work available for you. You're just too lazy to get up and do the work. You like to eat don't you?" Arthur nodded his head and leaned forward, putting his finger down as though trying to demonstrate how serious he was to Alfred, even though the other couldn't see him. "Food costs money, so next time you want to stuff your face and disrespect me, make sure that you have all of your own groceries all set and ready. You need to go out. Make it happen. And stop being such a leech!"

Silence. One of the loudest silences Arthur had ever heard. Oh, he knew this boy, this cretin, did not dare just hang up on him. "HELLO!" he snarled into the phone, ready to reach through and strangle someone.

"Yeah!" called Alfred back, gasping. "I'm still here!" came Alfred's voice in a defensive whine. "Shit…" he added in an soft undertone that Arthur chose to ignore for the sake of continuing on. Alfred was impossible to control.

"Anyway, here's what I need you to do." Said Arthur. "Go to my bedroom and lift up the mattress, there's an envelope there full of money. "I need you to take out £5,000 and put the rest in a new envelope, then seal it. DON'T you DARE take out any more than that and think that you can have an endless snack party. That money is for emergencies only and-"

"5000 pounds?" said Alfred, sucking his teeth again. "Pft, I could get you double that if I took a hose and sucked my stomach out." He said, in a tone that Arthur found rather strange, almost mocking. Although he didn't quite get it at first, it suddenly hit him and he laughed softly.

"Oh-! Right you are, ahaha! Oh the dangers of raising a boy in America, maybe that's why you're so thick in the head and the thighs. Anyway, come as soon as you can, don't dawdle." Said Arthur, in a much better mood now that he knew he was going to come home.

Alfred paused before replying. "Aha, yeah, okay. Lemme just find some change for the train." He said, speaking a little quieter.

"I love you." Said Arthur, his smiling growing bigger. He waited and waited for Alfred's response, only to hear the phone beeping, indicating that Alfred had hung up on him. Had he even heard it? His smile became harder to maintain as he handed the phone back to the officer and which was worse, Alfred hanging up without responding to the love, or hanging up before he had even heard it.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur's heart pounded in his chest as the minutes went by, pulsing in time with with his headache as emotions surged through him with violent intensity. Alfred was such a troublemaker, Arthur was fairly certain that his blood pressure would be in a much better condition without the boy. Such disgusting thoughts made him feel ashamed, however, and he concluded that this pain was probably some well deserved karma for the things he had done, even though Arthur perceived himself as the innocent victim in this situation. He exhaled and closed his eyes, trying to focus on breathing and telling himself that he would be okay, if not now, then eventually.

Arthur wished that he had a watch or clock to focus on. Not being able to know what time it was was incredibly disorienting. Of course, this endless confusion he felt was likely the result of this brutal hangover that was grower harsher with every passing moment. Now would be a great time for that glass of water he had wanted.

Suddenly, the wonderful sound of the cell door opening reached Arthur's ears and he stood at attention, looking like a deprived dog who had just heard the hints of its master coming home.

"You're free to go." Said the officer. "Your bail's been posted, you just need to sign a few papers at the front desk and that's it."

Arthur smiled and gave the guard a stiff nod as he left the cell, escorted by the officer to the lobby of the building. Despite the rude ending to the phone call between him and Alfred, Arthur was nevertheless overjoyed to see his blonde bespectacled son leaning forward in a chair, body scrunched together tightly as he hammered away at a video game. He was completely engrossed, biting his lip as he maneuvered the controls. Giving a much more honest smile in spite of the circumstances, Arthur signed a few forms to authorize the bail and walked over to Alfred.

Alfred didn't look up right away, completely focused on his game. "Come on Come on…Damnit- Dad's Heart…ugh, stop spawning so much crap." He muttered furiously. It sounded like utter nonsense to Arthur who felt relatively ignored. Seeing that he wasn't going to be noticed, he stepped even closer, casting a shadow over the device. Alfred's reflexes froze up when he tried to adjust. "W-No no no Ah! Damn. SO clooose." He whined, ragequitting and putting the game in his pocket. Alfred sighed and stood up then his game hazed eyes cleared a little as he drank in Arthur's form.

"Wow, you look like shit." He said, with honesty as hard as a hammer.

Arthur's smile dimmed in embarrassment and he promptly shushed Alfred. Looking away, he reached out to take his son's hand only to have Alfred dodge the touch and stick his hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking around with his signature smirk. "So, I gotta say man, out of all the police stations you've been in? This one has to be the nicest." He continued, maintaining the same volume.

"You keep talking like that." Snapped Arthur. "And you won't be getting any breakfast." Arthur hooked his arm around Alfred's elbow and hurried him out before his big mouth found anything else to add. "Of course, it's not as though skipping a few meals would harm you none."

"Well, the jokes on you man. I already ate." Countered Alfred in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes and sticking his tongue out at Arthur. Arthur didn't seem amused.

"I see- so I tell you to come right over here to pick me up and you decide to stay behind and stuff your face instead." He grumbled.

Alfred huffed in exasperation and looked down at the sidewalk, his smile evaporating in an instant and his body stiffening in absolute annoyance. Arthur noticed Alfred locking up and took a deep breath to reevaluate himself, changing the subject.

"So, what did you have for breakfast then? Did that Francis cook for you?" he asked.

"Yeah-. Yeah." Said Alfred, almost seeming as though had been caught off guard. "Um..I think he made pancakes."

"You think?" repeated Arthur with a laugh. "Oh Alfred, don't you even look at what you're eating anymore? I'm surprised you haven't accidentally swallowed a fork yet!" he exclaimed, patting Alfred on the back with a grin. Alfred looked up and snorted

"The fork doesn't taste as good as what's on it."

"I'm just kidding you." Said Arthur, squishing close to Alfred and grinning. "Don't worry about it alright? Besides- I'd just die myself if you choked to death." He said, getting a lost look in his eyes. Alfred was deeply disconcerted by the dramatic change in Arthur's tone.

"Augh…dude relax!" he exclaimed in discomfort, edging away from Arthur as though he might be infected. Arthur went after him and pulled him close again, his arm around Alfred's waist.

"You boys are the only ones I have that are important in my life…" he said softly. He smiled as they paid the fare and started to wait at the platform for the train to come. "I'm obligated to love you." Said Arthur with a smile. "But even if I wasn't, I would still love you." He said, bumping his head to Alfred's affectionately. Alfred smiled thinly, tolerating this closeness for a little bit before jolting away suddenly. "Trains here." He said, though with how loudly the train rattled on the tracks, his announcement hadn't really been necessary.

Once the screeching of the train had stopped and passengers spilled out, Alfred and Arthur made their way inside as well. "Do you know who else loved you?" asked Arthur softly, grabbing onto a pole to keep his balance.

Alfred shook his head and huffed, having an ominous feeling. "Pop." He said, squinting and seeming just a little bit sickened by the turn in conversation. "Pop, don't."

"Your mother." Said Arthur, looking past Alfred and sighing. "So- just don't worry."

"I don't." Said Alfred, although Arthur noticed that Alfred let go for a moment, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants before holding the pole again, gripping so tightly that he didn't even so much as lean when the train started to move. Arthur lowered his head and let the moment fester like an open sore, wishing he had something more comforting to say.

The train made its first stop and while barely any people left the train, a whole crowd piled in, laughing and chattering happily amongst themselves. Their clothes were vibrant and detailed, billowing fabric in bright colors. Arthur shifted in annoyance when a decorative paper dragon on a stick smacked him in the cheek while the newcomers squeezed their way in. None of them seemed to speak English, at least not at the moment. Arthur felt his mouth go dry, hoping for the next train stop to come as soon as possible so that he could get away from these people.

"Oh hey!" said Alfred with a grin, much to Arthur's dismay. "Was there a parade around here or something?" he asked the foreigners.

There was a brief pause before the young woman with the paper dragon spoke up. "Chinese Pride." She said, bobbing her head in an eager nod. "We gather here every year and theres a lot of food, dancing, art, for three days!" The Chinese girl tilted her head and observed Alfred with interest before her thin pink lips curved into a smile. "You look like maybe you're a little bit Chinese…?" she suggested, looking up.

Alfred laughed. "Oh man, really?" he asked, grinning brightly. "Man even you can't tell us apart, I'm half Japanese on my mom's side." Alfred shifted so that he could focus further on the conversation. "Dude, we've been all over the place since my Dad used to travel a lot." He chattered. "But I've never been to China! I'd totally wanna go there sometime!"

The paper dragon girl giggled back, her eyes scanning Alfred's body again and looking away for a moment before she met his eyes again. "Would Chinatown be good enough?" she said softly, "My name is-"

"Look! It's our stop!" said Arthur suddenly, nodding his head at the Chinese crew with a stiff smile. "Pleasant talking to you." He said, pulling Alfred away as fast as he could while the rebellious son tried his best to drag his feet.

"Wait! Your name was-!"

The doors closed and although Alfred could see her mouth moving, he couldn't hear the words over the blare of the train's announcement. The smile on her face faded, her paper dragon wilting on the stick and the train quickly moved out of the station and the two were separated, likely to never meet one another again. Arthur let go of Alfred and they began their climb to the ground above.

Arthur took a deep breath and sighed happily. "Ah, Princess Street. Home sweet home." He purred, pleased to see the familiar neighborhood. He tried to take Alfred's hand again, to which Alfred reacted much more violently.

"Don't touch me." He said, angrily tearing his arm away and picking up the pace to dart ahead. Arthur huffed in indignance but knew exactly what this was all about.

"What?! Alfred, we had to get off!" he said, catching up to Alfred with a jog. "I couldn't just miss our stop, I'm sorry!"

"No you're not! She had time to tell me her name if you would have shut your big mouth! I know what stop we get off!" snarled Alfred back.

Arthur stuck his finger in Alfred's face, leaning in close. "Don't you talk to me like that. You do not talk to me like that, do you understand?" he said in hushed tones.

"Just shut up already!" spat Alfred , prompting Arthur to flush red, trembling with anger. He stopped in his tracks and grabbed Alfred, panting hard.

"You…" repeated Arthur. "Do not. Talk to me. Like that." He said. Alfred kept his head down. Arthur had never hurt him, or rather, Arthur had never hit was no big deal and he just wanted the matter to drop.

"Kay. I'm sorry." He said, offering a phony apology that Arthur didn't believe for a second. Thankfully, Arthur was just as eager as Alfred to let it drop and they started walking again.

The pair shuffled along without speaking for a while as they treaded the bath they knew by heart right up to the doorstep of their house. "You remembered to lock the door, right?" said Arthur, touching the handle.

"Yea…"

Arthur turned the doorknob and it opened without need for a key. Arthur paused and threw Alfred a withering look. Huffing in annoyance, Alfred shoved his way past Arthur inside the house. "Who gives a fuck anyway…kick some ass…" he mumbled.

"Home. Sweet. Home." Said Arthur between his teeth as Alfred rushed to the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

* * *

><p>Notes: For anyone with doubts, Arthur's wife is indeed APH Japan.<p>

Please dont forget to review, fav and follow! Thank you so much!


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur gave a weary sigh, his heart aching after having to deal with Alfred being a difficult little cretin. He looked forward very much to seeing Matthew, at least that child, though rough around the edges as well at some points, was much better behaved than Alfred. Matthew was relaxed and easygoing, not nearly as quick to talk back as Alfred. It seemed that second time was the charm when it came to producing a good child.

Suddenly, Arthur felt his face flush with a deep sense of shame for having such thoughts of favoritism among his children. Hearing Alfred huffing angrily in the bathroom, Arthur felt a sort of regret that he didn't let him and the Chinese girl socialize a bit more. Still, having had a few chips on his shoulder with China that he had yet to brush off, there was no way he was going to open up old wounds for the sake of a silly teenage romance that would probably only prompt even more rebellion from Alfred. A blast of pain echoed from Arthur's forehead, and he recalled that Alfred hadn't even asked if Arthur was okay at all. Arthur wasn't sure if this throbbing headache was from his injury or from the hangover, but he knew the cure for either. A nice cold beer.

Making his way into the kitchen, Arthur spotted Matthew sitting at the table and was overcome with emotion, rushing over. Finally, a child that would heap upon him the sympathy and respect that he deserved. "Heeeeey, how's my Matthew?" he cooed eagerly, completely enveloping Matthew's head in a tight hug, swaying back and forth.

The sudden hug attack surprised Matthew, who only let out a gasp as soft as a mouse squeak in protest, his voice barely audible underneath the layers of love Arthur piled on. "Mmm—Daad…" he whined softly, wiggling a little to try to break free.

"Oohh, I missed you so much." Cooed Arthur, pulling back and ruffling Matthew's hair, pushing the bangs out of his face.

"Dad…" whined Matthew sleepily, bringing his hands up and trying to fix his hair with mild annoyance. "I'm not a…not a..baby. Not a baby." He said. Arthur growled playfully.

"Of course you are, you're my baby. My baby baby baby." He said with a grin, making Matthew wince and shy away with embarrassment. Licking his lips, Matthew brought his bottle up, a cute plastic water bottle with the shape of a polar bear, and drank eagerly. He exhaled sharply when he brought it down again, his eyes watering.

"What do you have in there this time?" asked Arthur curiously, reaching for the bear.

Matthew pulled it close to himself, hugging it tightly with a wildly territorial look in his eyes. "Nothing you want!" he exclaimed. "Umm…it's just…um…uh, mocha, I think- what do you call it." Matthew tapped the table a couple of times, trying to remember just what he wanted to say. Matthew had gotten a little bit more forgetful as of late, and like Alfred's snark, the symptoms had started only after Hana had left. "Java. Bean. Latte…Cough…Coffin-"

"Ah- Coffee. Don't hurt yourself." Said Arthur gently, patting Matthew's head and backing off. He never had a taste for the stuff, disliked even the smell.

"Yeah, that thing." Said Matthew, looking down and circling his finger around the top.

"Come on, Matthew- aren't you happy to see me?" said Arthur, changing the subject and shaking Matthew's shoulder. Looking alarmed, Matthew looked up and offered a weak smile, then covered his mouth with his hand and looked down again. Just as well. Even though Arthur adored Matthew, adored that boy with all his heart, he couldn't stand to look at that smile of his and Matthew knew this well.

"Uh- of course I am.I'm just, food. It was really good. Cakes. Francis made pancakes. They were the best." He said, speaking in a queer manner that sounded like excited chatter and an easygoing sigh at the same time.

"Ah yes, Francis." Repeated Arthur, looking up and peering around. "Is he still in the house? I should go thank him, where did he go?" he asked.

Matthew yawned and lowered his head on the table lazily, as though he wanted nothing more than to just take a nap right there in the kitchen. "Noooooo cluuuue." He snoozed, holding his water bottle between his thighs.

Arthur shrugged then, patting Matthew on the back before going over to open the fridge for that ice cold beer that he needed. That he definitely deserved.

Right when Arthur brought the can of beer to his lips, Alfred came in. He stopped in his tracks, staring in disbelief at Arthur nonchalantly tipping the can to drink, turning from him to the depressed looking Matthew at the table and back to Arthur.

"You look a little sick." Noted Arthur, frowning in concern and licking his lips."You alright? Like a cup of tea?" A smile spread on his face as he put down the can and walked around the counter.

"Nah Nah…I'm.." Alfred sighed softly and shrugged. "Whatever…"

Arthur was quiet for a moment, reaching first for the porcelain kettle shaped like a cat with it's paw up, then turning and picking up the metal kettle with a trembling hand instead. He didn't say a word as he filled it with water and put it on the stove, lost in thought, almost lost from this world. What brought him back to Earth was the sound of the refrigerator door opening. He looked up and saw Alfred searching around in the fridge.

Arthur pounced forward. "What are you doing!" said Arthur, immediately closing it, nearly slamming Alfred's hand in the process. "You already had breakfast and I'm making you some tea now! Relax!" he huffed. "Maybe…I'll give you a biscuit. Just sit down."

Matthew looked up then, rubbing his sleepy looking eyes. "Oh come on Dad…Alfred didn't have-owwowowwwwwow!"

Alfred had taken the liberty and violently pulling on a curly flyaway hair on Matthew, who howled softly in pain until Alfred sat down next to him and let go. He leaned forward and rubbed his head. "Wait…yeah, you did…" he said weakly.

Alfred plopped his hands on his cheeks, elbows leaning on the table, looking bored. "Yup." He said, blowing a hair out of his eyes. "You just forgot again." He said.

Matthew dipped his head and sighed, taking another drink from his polar bear bottle, lingering as he drank, suckling like a baby in need. Alfred watched him for a moment, before he reached forward and gently pulled it down out of Matthew's mouth with a soft pop. "Easy tiger." He said.

"It's all gone anyway." Said Matthew, shaking the bottle, tiny droplets noiselessly splashing around inside.

"Hellooo! I'm back!" came a voice from the door. Arthur stiffened, recognizing that voice from the phone. The Frenchman. He stood up straight and turned around then. "Francis?" he called out. "Just wait there, I'm back from Germany, so I just want to thank you, but…" he fussed, picking up his beer and walking over to meet his savior at the door.

Francis sighed lightly, carrying bags of groceries in both hands. "Oh no no, it was my pleasure to take care of them overnight, I just had gone our to-….to…" Francis stopped talking when he looked up and saw Arthur, letting go of the bags, his jaw dropping slightly in shock. Arthur scrambled forward to make sure they wouldn't tip over and spill everywhere.

"Oh! Let me help you!" he said, using one hand to steady the bags and pull them out of the way. As far as he could tell, nothing seemed broken, but he wondered what was it about himself that had rendered the other suddenly speechless. His dashing good looks? "Wow…haha, I didn't expect someone to do this errand for me, thank you." He said, appreciating Antonio's choice in caretakers.

"Germany…" said Francis softly, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at Arthur, as though he suddenly needed glasses. "You said you were on the bus from Italy."

Arthur's mind quickly whirred into gear to patch the tear in his web of lies. "Uh-see, what was going on is that, the bus made a stop in Germany before coming back here, ahaha…those detours and that German-Italian love affair, yeah?" he chattered with a weak laugh.

Francis stiffened and offered a forced tight lipped smile, trying to force a fake laugh as well. His eyes darted down to the beer in Arthur's hand and the smile dissipated into a solemn, disapproving stare. Misinterpreting his gaze, Arthur pointed to the can. "Where are my manners…would you like one? Or perhaps some tea? I just brewed a batch." He offered with complete kindness. "I just really want you to know I appreciate what you've done for my boys here."

Francis' smile flickered for a moment, but the mention of the boys made him seem very agitated. "Ah…no thank you, I have to go." He said suddenly, turning around and practically galloping down the front steps with a quick wave.

Surprised and confused, Arthur walked out after Francis. "Wait! Um- Don't you want to stay a little longer?" he offered.

Turning around at the bottom of the steps, Francis looked completely mortified. He tried to hide it with a laugh and a vicious nod. "No- I'm fine- I'm actually running late, maybe I'll see…I'll…" He shook his head and off he went at a brisk walk that turned in a jog.

Arthur was tempted to call out again but Francis was already out of earshot, and even if he wasn't it seemed that he would pretend to have not heard him. He sighed softly, shaking his head. What had made Francis so jumpy all of the sudden? He had seemed perfectly collected and more than sociable over the phone. It didn't make much sense to him. Closing the door, Arthur brought the bags into the kitchen, clinging to the beer in one hand, nursing it before it got too warm. It was still such a kind and wonderfully unnecessary thing for an impromptu babysitter to do, stocking the pantry…

In the kitchen, Arthur could see that Alfred and Matthew seemed to have helped themselves to the tea. A thin smoke of steam billowed from the top of Matthew's special water bottle as he delicately nursed it while Alfred laid his head on the table and waited for his to cool down, blowing the paper tab back and forth.

Arthur was just surrounded by weirdness.

Just when Arthur had finished his beer and was cracking open a second one, the phone rang. "I've got it." He said, though neither of the boys had moved even a fraction of a centimeter that would indicate they had intended to pick it up for him, even though the phone was right beside them. Rushing over, Arthur picked up the wireless phone, helping himself to a sip of beer to moisten his throat. "Kirkland Residence."

"You…fucking idiota."

Oh how Arthur wished he had checked the Caller ID.

* * *

><p>What can I say? Thank you so much for sticking with this story so far. The plot thickens from here on out, what with the formal introduction of our favorite frenchman!<p>

There's a lot happening character wise in this chapter, so I'd really really REALLY love to hear your thoughts. Any comments, and reviews, even if its just one word, means the WORLD to me! Please don't feel shy ^^

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	6. Chapter 6

"Hey Shit-Breath! I'm talking to you!" snarled the voice on the phone.

It was Lovino. Antonio's crude fiance and the likely cause of the lawyer's newfound need to curse at Arthur all the time. Taking a deep breath, Arthur plastered on a fake smile, trying to come out with a bullshit excuse as to why exactly he was home. Finding that his voice seemed to have disappeared for a moment, he chugged his beer.

"Ohohoho, man…Antonio is going to fuck you uuuuuup when he gets home." said Lovino, almost gleefully. " So. Mister, "I'm drowning in my own sad life like some fat pathetic Russian guy. Why don't you spit it out? Or do you swallow instead, like with all that crappy beer you drink?"

Lovino's mocking chatter was more than Arthur could take. "Sorry! I'm not here right now." He said, covering his mouth. "Kssh-You're breaking up. Please, kksssh. Leave a message, after the beep. Ksh. Beeeeeeep." With that, he slammed the phone down into the receiver. It was only now that he realized he had mixed up two phone excuses into one nonsensical nightmare. Staring at his can of beer, he thought of Russians again and considered switching to vodka for the rest of the night. He moved to open the refrigerator, but paused when he closed his hand around the handle, staring at the lucky cat teapot, covered in dust.

"Stay." He whispered.

She didn't answer. Or maybe she wouldn't answer. She was deaf, or maybe he was. Taunting him, a flickering mirage in his desert of despair. Then, she was gone. The damn cat was still there, along with the curse inside of it.

Arthur let go of the refrigerator, leaving a sheen of sweat from his palm on the handle that he rubbed off on his shirt and reaching up to grab a box of cookies from the pantry instead. The vodka wasn't worth it. Or maybe it was. Arthur would go for it after this beer, he couldn't let things go to waste after all. Especially not with Matthew's craziness going on.

Alfred stared at Arthur, wondering how his father could be so incompetent and hideously stubborn. He looked down at the beer can in Arthur's hand and then up at his flushed face, saying nothing but managing to exude an aura of refined disgust. Unfortunately for him, Arthur caught turned around and, catching the mood associated with that look, felt a vein of rage burst within him. "Oh shut up." He spat, sitting down at the table with the two of them, emptying the box of cookies into a dish. "It's not as though it was for you. No one calls for you, so mind your own business and eat the damn biscuits."

Alfred lowered his head to the dish of cookies, grabbing a handful and leaning back. "I didn't say anything." He said, snapping a cookie poignantly, before shoving the rest of it into his mouth and stuffing another cookie into the other cheek like an anxious hamster.

Matthew seemed unfazed, as though he considered Arthur's logic to make perfect sense. Still…that silly smile on his face as he played with his bottle was just…too taunting. Arthur paused, seeing him grin a little wider, and start giggling. Matthew turned to Alfred, pushing him gently. "You don't have any friends." He sang. His taunt came out so gently that Alfred just rolled his eyes and smirked, seeming as though he was pleased with Matthew demeaning him. Arthur ground his teeth, gripping his beer a little tighter as Alfred reached out for more cookies.

"Neither do you Matthew." Said Arthur suddenly. "And you're certainly not going to make any more friends with me if you keep going through my things." He snapped. Matthew seemed stunned and almost visibly shrank. He knew exactly what Arthur was talking about, but didn't understand why he had brought it up seemingly without provocation. The disappearance of Matthew's smile put Arthur a little more at ease. Everything would have been fine, but then Matthew had the audacity to talk back.

"I was just trying to help." He said sheepishly, clutching his bottle to his chest and looking up. "It's a waste of money and I don't like it when."

"I don't care what you don't like about me!" shouted Arthur, slamming his fist on the table and making the cookies rattle. Alfred paused before slowly sliding the dish towards him, munching quietly. Arthur cleared his throat. Seeing Matthew smile riled him up but…he didn't like to see his boy cowering either. He spoke softer. "Just stop acting as though you're better than me." He said. "I try my hardest for you two." He sighed and lowered his head to the table,

"Ok." Said Matthew, his voice barely about a whisper. He glanced at Alfred and shook his bottle at him, splashing Alfred's glasses with tea. "Stop being a vacuum and leave some cookies for me." He said solemnly, nibbling on the edge and washing it down with his tea. Without warning, Alfred smacked Matthew's water bottle, causing a surge of tea, thankfully not boiling anymore, to shoot up into Matthew's nose. Matthew gave a strangled cry of frustration and stood up with a whine, Alfred laughing triumphantly and Arthur pretending as though he wasn't seeing anything, playing idly with the tab on his beer can.

"I'll stop being a vacuum." Said Alfred, picking up another cookie and biting it violently. "Soon as you stop being such a baby with your stupid bottle!"

Matthew slowly took off his glasses, now sprayed with flecks of half chewed cookies, and gave a huffy shove to Alfred before going to the sink to clean up. Right when Matthew was drying off his face, the phone rang. Wanting an excuse to be transported away from his present circumstances, even if it was only in thought, Matthew picked up. "Hello?" he said sleepily.

"Ah-" came the voice on the other side, seeming stunned by the sound of who had picked up. "Matthew? That's you, yes? It's Francis."

"Frraaaanciiiiis." Cheered Matthew softly, so pleased to be on the phone with this man of all people. Alfred looked up, abandoning the last cookie and jumping up over to Matthew, peering in curiously.

"Francis? Oh shit- you just disappeared didn't you?"

"Where did you gooooo?"

"Yeah, crap- are you okay?"

Francis laughed softly at the way the boys doted on him. "Oh- yes yes of course. I'm fine. "I really sorry for having to leave right away- I would have said goodbye to you two but I just couldn't bear it!"

Arthur looked up in annoyance, not moving, but paying close attention. He reached out for the last cookie on the plate, staring at it before slowly putting it into his mouth, chewing carefully so that he could still hear the conversation.

"You weren't afraid of Dad were you?" asked Matthew gently. "He doesn't bite that hard."

"You're coming back sometime soon right?" said Alfred eagerly. "Cause like, Pops goes to 'Italy' all the time." He said.

"Oh…" whispered Francis. There was a brief pause. "I'd love to come back. I'm so sorry you have to deal with that."

Arthur felt a pricking across his skin that made him want to jump up and wrap the phone cable around his neck until it snapped. The cable that is. Or perhaps both. He leapt to his feet and in one swift stride he scooped up the phone from Matthew. "Give me the phone." He said, even though he had already taken it from them. "And drink your tea." Taking it off speaker, Arthur held the phone to his ear and walked out of the room, leaving his beer in the kitchen. "Francis?"

"Yes." Said Francis with an air of disdain so sharp Arthur could already feel his ego bruising. "So, Italy, Germany. You two must think that I'm an idiot do you?" he snarled. "How did you even think you could be clever enough to get such a trashy lie past me!?"

Arthur was too exhausted to play this game of excuses. "Listen, it doesn't matter, you don't have act so high and mighty." He grumped. "Besides, what business is it of yours whether I'm in Cocomo or Costa Rica?"

"Because." Said Francis. "I don't think you were in such a tropical paradise last night, unless you find cockroaches and cocktails exotic."

Arthur could feel his blood freezing over. That reference was so strange…Sure, it might have been simple enough to tell that he was just a drunk, having met Francis on the steps foggy eyed and with a beer in his hand. "How- How would you have idea where I was last night?"

Francis laughed derisively. "Maybe your addled brain doesn't remember me." He spat. "But you could have prevented all of this. I tried to stop you, and you acted like an ASS. "

Arthur shook visibly, he could anticipate what was coming up next, as Francis raised his voice. No. He instinctively raised his hand to drink only to find that he had left his potion of protection, the beer, behind. His heart pounded in his chest and all he wanted to do was run away, but he dutifully closed his eyes, shaking, to take his punishment now.

"You have a wife…" continued Francis. "HA. What wife? It seems that she left you long before. That woman must have been cruel beyond measure to have left her children with you."

Arthur could feel the tears welling up uncontrollably in his eyes, dripping down his cheeks. His body felt empty, like a casing with nothing inside, a heavy feeling of dread trying to drag him to hell, a place he has tried so hard to avoid going back to ever since he moved out of his own father's house. His throat was dry, and his anger felt weak. "Ffffuck you." He whispered, trembling, a brief vision of happiness blazing through his mind, reminding him of what his life was once like so that he could remember his current situation was bleaker and hopeless still. "Why did you run away?" he snarled.

"You fool." Hissed Francis in contempt. "Drinking before noon right after he gets out of jail for being uncontrollable. I hope Antonio does a horrible job. I hope he gets you sent away to jail for years, because Alfred and Matthew don't deserve someone as wasted and wasteful as you!"

"Shut UP!" cried Arthur furiously. "You'll NEVER take my kids! They're all I have left anymore!" Arthur hung up the phone and flung it with all his might at the couch, gasping. He was sweating all over, his body tingling with sickening adrenaline, his stomach aching and heart racing. That last part wasn't supposed to have slipped out. The last thing that he wanted was sympathy and yet deep down that was all that he desired. All he happened to see was constant pity. He sniffed and took a deep breath, rubbing his face with the sleeves of his jacket and holding his head. He felt so hot….Beer.

He took the walk of shame back into the kitchen. Alfred and Matthew quickly acted as though they hadn't been rubbernecking into the hallway to see what was going on. They said nothing to Arthur or each other, staring down at the table, not wanting to leave the room.

Arthur came back to his beer, closing his hands around the now warm can. Alfred looked up slowly, from the beer to Arthur. "Dad?" asked Alfred.

"What."

Alfred's eyes went wider in concern as Arthur slowly lifted the beer to his lips. "I love ya." He said quietly, dropping his gaze again.

Arthur stood quiet for a moment and then tipped the beer, downing the rest of it in one swig and tossing it in the bin. "I don't believe you."

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><p>I just want to thank everyone for supporting me in this journey! It's been so wonderful reading all your comments and reviews, it keeps me going on the rough days. This chapter was completely rewritten in one day from the rough draft and I really hope you all like it as much as I do myself, heh.<p>

Unfortunately, future chapters may be delayed from now until June thanks to college. I've been posting a chapter every ten days so now I think...I might estimate a chapter every 14 days now, so will hopefully schedule the next update to be February 9th. For more information, you can follow my tumblr fruk-this. Thanks again and I hope to see you all soon!


	7. Chapter 7

Dinner was a silent affair. The chicken was dry and the rice, undercooked, but Matthew and Alfred knew better than to offer criticism when Arthur was in this state. Alfred didn't eat much, just pushed his rice around and cut up the chicken with his fork. Matthew washed every bite down with a swig of water from his bottle, a sort of anxious tic that he tried to do as discreetly as possible before stopping completely after Alfred gave him a long stare. Arthur's dinner was a screwdriver, an orange juice/vodka mix, and a bacon sandwich, which he ate sprawled out on his back on the couch watching _Doctor Who_ reruns.

"Leave the dishes in the sink and I'll do them." Said Arthur, hearing the sound of the chair scraping across the kitchen floor as Alfred got up. "Just go to bed. It's a school night."

"Mmkay." Mumbled Alfred, dumping the extra food into the garbage. He paused and wandered over to the couch. He leaned over and stared at the TV, staying silent so as to not interrupt the important ramblings that Arthur seemed to be so engrossed in. Once it cut to commercial, Arthur felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle and he looked up, blinking in confusion at Alfred. Alfred held tightly onto the couch, swallowing hard and leaning over. "I love you, Dad…" he said weakly.

Arthur exhaled slowly, chewing over the latest bite of his sandwich and washing it down with his drink. "I know, I love you too. " He said, sitting up with a groan. Alfred hugged him from behind tightly, pressing his weight on Arthur's shoulders, staying relatively silent, just enjoying the contact for a moment before letting go and pushing his glasses up his nose.

"So then freaking act like it! Damn" he said jokefully, grinning as he sauntered to the bathroom. Arthur snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Alfred, please. You're the one who needs to ACT LIKE IT." Snarled Arthur. "Stupid Git…" he mumbled, flopping back down on the couch. Alfred's grin melted away faster than butter in a microwave and he ducked into the bathroom, the sound of the bathtub turning on right away. Matthew lingered behind, taking a long thoughtful drink of water.

The muffled sound of the phone ringing startled Arthur, looking around in confusion as he tried to find the source of the sound. He sat up again, patting the cushions and finding the phone that he had thrown here during his conversation with Francis. No longer the imbecile, Arthur carefully checked the Caller ID.  
>[ CARRIEDO, ANTONIO CALLING…]<p>

A deep sigh of resignation escaped him. He had known that it would be coming, so he might as well face it now. He still needed Antonio to defend him when his day of court came. Maybe if he picked up the phone and sounded as pathetic and weak as a wounded animal, Antonio would take some pity on him. He pressed the button to answer and coughed lightly.

"Heh…hello…" murmured Arthur softly into the phone.

"I'm going to kill you."

So much for that plan. It did seem pretty unlikely that the Spanish man, after having known Arthur all these years, wouldn't see through this ruse and unleash the verbal beatdown that Arthur knew he deserved. Knowing that fighting it any longer would be pointless, Arthur exhaled and flopped back onto the couch.

"Can't you see that I'm already dying? I thought it was clear to everyone else that I'm in hell." Moaned Arthur. Antonio had used to be much more sympathetic to his plight. Lately however, his patience with Arthur was growing thinner every time he ended up in trouble, which was often. Arthur supposed that it wasn't really Antonio's fault for feeling this way, especially since Arthur rarely made an effort to cut down on his drinking even after it led to something terrible, like a bar fight or a car crash. "You're so rude and mean now…that fiance of yours is a terrible influence." He grumbled, slurring his words and rolling over on the couch.

"Leave Lovi out of this." Said Antonio with a snarl. He wasn't about to allow Arthur to change the subject. "He's the one who came up with the Italy idea in the first place, which of course, doesn't matter anymore now, since Francis told me EVERYTHING!" Arthur shrank back from the phone with a wince and bit his lip, the shame welling up as he tightened his grip on his drink. Drat….Antonio wasn't supposed to know about that. It took a moment for him to recover and take a deep breath.

"I-I never asked you to make up stories about me anyway…" said Arthur softly, still in disbelief about how all the connections that had fallen into place. "It's a small world after all, its a small, small world…" he sang shakily, sipping his drink and closing his eyes, gasping as he tried to still his trembling.

"I- I just can't believe you." Said Antonio, in a voice so soft that Arthur almost wished he would go back to cursing. "You could have prevented all of this. He tried to stop you. He invited you to a motel to sleep it off."

Arthur shook hard, trying to push these thoughts out of his mind even though he knew for a fact that Antonio was telling the truth. His voice stalled for a moment as he tried to get a word in edgewise. "…A-An..Antonio." He stuttered. "My kids-"

"STOP using Alfred and Matthew as an excuse!" interrupted Antonio, making Arthur flinch. "At the end of the day," continued Antonio. "They were still alone! You're always leaving them alone, even when you're there you're not even the real you. Don't you understand Arthur? You could have died! Then finito, eso es. Thats it, your kids are alone, your life is over, no more houses to sell, no more places to go. Lights out, and you would have wasted everything!"

Arthur was angry that his soft shuddery gasp was audible over the phone, which meant that Matthew might have heard it too. He covered his mouth, hearing Antonio gasp softly. Arthur knew that he had heard it too. This was absolute nonsense. Utter stupidity.

"Alfred…there better be some hot water left for me." Grumped Matthew in the background, pounding on the bathroom door.

It was all useless.

"Ssh…Arthur. You could have called me." Said Antonio.

So dumb.

Arthur took a deep breath and hugged himself with his free arm. "I know."

"You could have listened to Francis."

Idiotic.

"I know."

"You could."

"BUT I DIDN'T OKAY?" shouted Arthur angrily, finally bursting under the pressure being pushed down upon him, sitting upright. "I didn't, I get it! I didn't, I could have, I should have. But I hadn't, because I wouldn't, I. MESSED. UP." He ranted, gasping hard and leaning back into the couch. He had known the whole time that he was wrong. He knew it, and although he wished with all his heart that he could just hurl a pocket watch into the air and go back in the to stop the idiotic past Arthur, the likelihood of that happening was about as good as Alfred turning down ice cream. Antonio paused and all Arthur could hear was the slight echo of his own ragged breathing, sounding so mangled and pathetic. Arthur could hear a mumbling in the background of the phone that he recognized as Lovino.

"Yeah- he's a fucker and it'll be a pain in the ass, but you'll find something nice." Chattered the italian in the background. "Plus, I want you to talk his ear off and be annoying as shit as usual."

When Antonio finally spoke up again, his voice was quiet, a pinch of worry within it.

"This is really bad Arthur…sabe? Really, really bad. I told you not to leave. When people get out of jail before a trial, they get worse punishments…I could have gotten you on probation maybe if you had stayed but…caramba this is going to be really hard now. A lot of work and..I can't guarantee that it's going to be fixed this time. I'm sorry Arthur but."

Antonio sighed in resignation. "I don't think that I can help you anymore."

Arthur gasped softly. "No-…no no Antonio you can't. You can't leave me alone like this."

"Arthur…" said Antonio. "You're my good friend, and I don't want to leave you. But I can't help you keep ruining your life." He sighed. "Maybe…they'll force you to go to rehab and things will get better."

"Antonio no. No no. No no no no no no. No no. No." Chattered Arthur in a panic. "You can't." He said, gasping hard. "I have the money. You know me. I have the money- it doesn't matter, I can. I can get out of this. I'm not a drunk. I just need to cut down- just a little. "

"You still don't understand." Said Antonio. "Arthur, ever since she left you've become an alcoholic. Now… now you're turning into a black hole and bringing everyone around you into this deep sucky space thing. It's not about the money, my friend…I'm not going to be apart of getting you out of trouble for you to go back to your old ways again. Francis told me that when he saw you…after the other night, already having a damn beer in your hand. Dios mio, he just couldn't believe how stupid you are."

"Yo Toni." Said Lovino in the background.

"Lovino- wait un momento okay?"

"Nah nah, make HIM wait."

Antonio sighed softly. "Hang on Arthur, I'll be right back, don't hang up."

Arthur wasn't even paying much attention to the dim chatter on the line, looking back and seeing that Matthew was still waiting. "Alfred!" he called, not getting up from his seat. "Get out of the bathroom already!"

Right when Arthur made that declaration, the door opened, a thick cloud of steam pouring out. "Yeah yeah, whatever, I'm out!" he huffed, wrapped in a towel and pushing past Matthew to his room.

"You look like a lobster." Sniffed Matthew in annoyance, going inside and pulling aside the shower curtain. "Alfred!" he whined. "The tub is full of your old water! What am I supposed to do?"

"Drink it, you fish!" called Alfred from his room.

"You pig." Matthew groaned in disgust and closed the door, clinking the lock shut.

"Arthur? You there?" came Lovino's voice on the phone.

Arthur's attention was brought back to the phone conversation again, his mind rattling from the stress. "Y-Yes…I'm here." He said with a nod. "In any case…."

"Kay, so listen up, cause I'm not going to repeat myself. Antonio's sick of your shit, but…I managed to convince him that if you help us both out, he's not gonna leave your ass out to dry." Chattered Lovino, classy as usual.

"Sounds fair to me." Said Arthur. "How much do you want?"

Lovino snickered. "Oh no no no you shit-faced bastard. This shit is better than money. Okay, first of all, I'm gonna tell you the easy part first. There's like three things you gotta do for us, ok?"

Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head. "Fine fine…you don't hear me complaining…"

"Okay, first, you gotta find my brother a good house in our neighborhood. I gave him your email and shit so get to work on that." Demanded Lovino. "Second, quit being such pansy and stop drowning yourself in shitty beer."

"That second part is giving me deja vu…" growled Arthur sarcastically.

"I don't care if it gives you a fucking boner, man." Said Lovino with a laugh. "You keep on getting blitzed to hell and that's it, we finito, done, no more Toni for you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Mumbled Arthur. "What's your last wish, since I'm such a magical fairy."

There was the sound of shuffling as the phone seemed to be passed over and Antonio picked it up. "Okay…the last thing you need to do, is let Francis move in with you."

Arthur paused for a moment, then smiled. His grin spread painfully across his face and sharp hollow laughter escaped his lungs in an unpleasant barking noise. "Oh Antonio…stop messing with me and tell me what you really want so I can go to bed." Antonio didn't share in the laughter, and at that moment, Arthur felt a chill run up his spine.

"I need you to take Francis into your house for me." Antonio repeated slowly.

Now Arthur was unsure if he had heard Antonio correctly. "Ahem, do you mean Francis- as in."

"Francis. Francis Bonnefoy, he was there at your house last night and today and he was there when you could have-"

"So uh- by help and why." Stammered Arthur, chattering to interrupt Antonio. "Does he have a disease?" he asked, trying hard to hide the contempt rising in his voice. "A mental issue?"

"No Arthur," grumbled Antonio, annoyed by Arthur's audacity to act snooty in this situation. " He's just homeless."

"Homeless!?" exclaimed Arthur. "You mean- you mean he's…he's a bum!?" Arthur hadn't even bothered to check if anything had been stolen around the house. A panic arose within him that Antonio promptly beat down.

"No less a bum than you!" Snapped Antonio. "He's a victim of circumstance- and one that managed to cover your ass when you weren't there. I know you two went back and forth with some nasty words, but I know that Francis could put it aside if you'd let him stay with you."

Arthur sputtered. "Another person…I can't believe you're asking me this."

"Francis is my best friend Arthur." Said Antonio. "Of mine and Lovino's. We're like as close as you and I am you know? Like brothers. Please, he wouldn't just lie around the house all day, he can cook and clean and maybe make it easier for you so you don't have to worry about things while you're quitting drinking."

Arthur tuned out the last two words, coughing a bit over them and looking around. He hadn't noticed much when he first came in since he had been preoccupied with the mindset of "Drink, Drink, Drink, NOW." But the house really did seem more organized that it had been when he left it the night before the last. Still, the prospect of having to live with someone he had fought so furiously with made him feel awkward, ashamed even that he had given so much grief to someone who had done nothing but try to help him.

"So…" he said, sighing. "Essentially, he'd be like an unpaid nanny."

"Si, living there with you until he can get back on his feet would be payment enough. He's going to be back there tomorrow morning."

Arthur was alarmed. "What! So soon?" he exclaimed.

"If there's a third party living with him, I think I can convince a judge to be a little easier because you'll have someone else supervising you."

"Ugh…" snarled Arthur. "You're making it sound as if he's going to be MY nanny as well."

"Since you act like a child, yeah, why not." Said Antonio, unaffected by Arthur's rage.

Arthur took a deep breath. He looked up, Matthew came out of the bathroom in backwards pajamas and moaned softly, stumbling forward and bumping his head into the closet with a loud clatter. "Mmmokay…" he huffed, rubbing his forehead and leaning against the wall to find his way back to his room, swinging his beloved water bottle.

"Fine…" said Arthur. "I'll do it."

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><p><em>Man, things are really getting heated up aren't they? Thank you all so much for the follows, favorites and reviews. They honestly mean the world to me and keep me going in the hard times and when I'm busy with other things. ;w; It's been my dream to receive a reaction like this since I first started writing fanfiction in spiral notebooks when I was only 12 years old...I'm sure you can relate. So the fact that I've received this reaction with honestly something that I managed to essentially make in only a month...is incredible really. To be honest, your feedback is really affecting my plot bunnies (in a positive way) for how the story is going to turn out because before I started publishing I felt HOPELESSLY stuck. And your support and this lovely pressure has helped me fill in the gap. <em>

_Soon, I won't have the foundations of my bare rough draft to work from, and I think that might be okay. I'm a little scared to see what will happen then, but I still feel committed to finishing this story. (Don't worry dudes and dudettes and those off the dude spectrum, we're not even 10% in) _

_In any case, please continue your wonderful support, share this story, keep reviewing and letting me know what you think about the recent chapter and keep being awesome in general. Thank you so much! I couldn't do this without you all!_


	8. Chapter 8

Notes: I'm really sorry about this chapter being late, I did try to warn you all beforehand, but the fact that this one is even later is due to circumstances I'll explain further at the end of this chapter. :) You guys have been waiting long enough, so enjoy!

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><p>Arthur wasn't sure what he had expected to happen this morning. What he certainly hadn't looked forward to was waking up to the thrill of the doorbell echoing through the house. He jerked with a start, instantly awake and alert, frozen as a wave of fear washed over him. Breathing softly, he waited for someone to pound on his door with rage rivaling that of the devil, roar at him for being so absolutely pathetic and lazy, unable to do something so simple as to open the damn door. When no such invasion came, Arthur looked up and remembered that he wasn't 14 anymore, wasn't in any danger of being flogged for not being responsible enough. He was in his 40's now; his father had been dead for almost 15 years. Arthur sat up and waited for his heart to calm down, panting and wondering who had the audacity to ring the bell so early in the morning. He turned and took a look at the digital clock beside his bed. It was 1 in the afternoon.<p>

Oh.

Even though his brain was foggy and swimming in drunk gunk, Arthur tried his best to gather his thoughts despite the wicked hangover. Thank god he was already dressed. Arthur hadn't even bothered stripping down when he went to bed last night, in fact he couldn't even recall actually actively going to bed and more than likely probably simply stumbled into his room and managed to pass out on his mattress. Neither Alfred nor Matthew had wandered in to rouse him awake and say goodbye before going to school. They knew the drill. Arthur held his stomach and sighed, leaning back into the pillows and closing his eyes once more, just trying to grasp at that last few nuggets of relaxation that were just beyond reach.

Ding Dong.

Sighing in resignation, Arthur got up and took a quick look in the mirror. He looked like a haggard mess, but there was no time to shower before opening the door. The last thing he needed to get into trouble because Francis went back to tell Antonio that Arthur wouldn't hold up his end of the deal. He stared at himself in the mirror. Take in a homeless man, quit drinking and find a house for someone so Antonio wouldn't leave him behind when it came to this upcoming court case. It was impossible, especially when the only thing that Arthur knew he could confidently do was find a good house on Canal Street, where Antonio and Lovino lived.

When Arthur saw Francis through the window, he was caught completely off guard. He had seen this man twice before, so nothing about his appearance had changed, but this was the third time Arthur's perception of Francis was altered. The first time, he had assumed that the man was a nosy little prostitute looking to score some cash. The second, a charming if not chattery caregiver of his children. And now, with Arthur having learned that Francis was actually a homeless man -for god knows how long- he tried his best to see some lazy drug addicted bum, but to his surprise could perceive nothing but a normal looking person. Francis didnt have a shopping cart filled with cans and bottles to recycle. No huge garbage bags filled with the only possessions he had left in a sad miserable life. No layers upon layers of dirty ripped coats and fingerless gloves with black fingernails. No desolate look on his face, but an earnest hopeful one in the autumn chill. The only thing that Francis carried was a messenger bag about as big as a Halloween pumpkin. It made Arthur wonder if maybe Antonio was playing a trick on him with this 'poor homeless Francis' routine.

Arthur found his judging session suddenly interrupted when he noticed that Francis had turned his head and caught him staring through the window, but not opening the door for him. A knowing smirk crossed his lips that made Arthur flush in embarrassment and pull away. He took a deep breath, adjusting his shirt once more. It struck him as rather odd that he wanted to make a good impression on someone who probably couldn't even afford Arthur's cheapest pajamas, not to mention someone he had cursed out more than once before. Still, if this man was going to be living under his roof for a while, it would probably be best if they started anew on good terms.

Plastering on a smile as fake as the leather on the couch, Arthur opened the door and grinned at Francis. Francis was evidently either a flamboyantly happy person at heart or simply wanted to mock Arthur, because he was smiling back just as foolishly.

"Arthur!" he purred, sauntering forward and pulling Arthur into a hug, a sudden intimate expressions that actually startled him. "OOoh you and Antonio…you two." He muttered, pulling back and patting Arthur's shoulders. "I know we got off on the wrong foot but you have absolutely no idea how much this means to me. Thank you." Arthur was wary of Francis' enthusiasm. He coughed lightly, his smile having lost much of its luster.

"Oh…yes yes it's fine." He said, trying to hide his real feelings. He just couldn't get an accurate read on just what Francis was all about. He almost seemed two faced with how quickly he was able to shift from happy and friendly to a snarling demon, yet despite Arthur's experience with horrible people like that, Francis' anger at Arthur seemed justified rather than randomly cruel.

Francis' blue eyes sparkled in delight. "So, we can put everything behind us, no?" he gushed, adjusting the strap of his bag and letting it slide off his shoulder. "I help you to stop acting like an imbecile and everyone stops treating you like one. Where can I put my things?"

Too stunned by the chirped insult to respond to it, Arthur shakily pointed down the hall. "U-Uh…you can just drop them off in the master bedroom I suppose." He said. Francis nodded brightly and practically skipped off in the direction where Arthur had pointed. It was now that Arthur started to think harder about where Francis would end up sleeping. Although his room had a queen sized bed that had been cold and lonely for years, he wasn't certain he'd be too comfortable allowing it to be warmed by the company of a stranger. On top of that, Matthew and Alfred already slept in the same bedroom, so it wasn't as though he could squish them together to make room.

On the topic of his sons, Arthur thought about what their reaction would be to these new living arrangements. Judging by the way they acted the day before, it seemed likely that that would be more than happy to accept him as their own, especially if it meant that he would be cooking more often. Arthur furrowed his brow and walked into the kitchen. Of course…that didn't mean that he himself was a bad cook. Maybe sometimes he didn't pay much attention anymore, or ordered out a lot but he did try his best. Even if it meant trying to wring out the few droplets of love he had left in his heart, Arthur always made sure that his boys at least had a good supper. The thought reminded him that they would be coming home from school in a few hours, so it would probably be wise to get the meal started, especially now that there would be a meal for four.

Arthur came back to reality to find that his hand was on the refrigerator door, ready to dull his rambling mind by flooding it with the numbing bitterness a good cold beer provided. Just when he was about to close his hands around the can, he felt an ominous prickling on the back of his neck. Quickly switching to grab a nearly empty carton of orange juice, he turned around and found himself face to face with Francis.

"I put my bag in the closet." He said with a gentle smile, reaching into the refrigerator past Arthur and grabbing the beer he had originally gone for. "Oh, I suppose I should give you your rations now." He said.

Arthur flushed in embarrassment. The way Francis spoke made him feel like a dog that needed to wait to be fed. He snorted at how ridiculous that sounded, clutching the orange juice to his chest and trying to pretend as though drinking the beer had never been his intention. "Rations…" he repeated with a huff, chugging the last of the juice and crossing over to toss it into the trash. "I didn't realize I was in the midst of a war."

"Why of course you are!" said Francis earnestly, shifting the beer from hand to hand idly. "You're right in the battlefield, desperately trying to win the war in your mind." He gushed.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh quit trying to sound poetic. There's no such thing. I'm perfectly fine."

"You're more delusional than I thought." Said Francis, fiddling with the tab. Arthur stared hopefully, starting to feel a little anxious. Truth to be told, the orange juice hadn't quite quenched his thirst. But he couldn't exactly give the other the satisfaction that he was too weak to resist.

"I'm not an alcoholic." Said Arthur, ruffling his hair and looking away with a sigh. "I only drink because…because…" Arthur lowered his head, he couldn't think of a reason that he was comfortable telling Francis yet. It made him feel worse and only made the craving stronger.

"Yes yes yes you can quit any time you wanted to." Said Francis, setting the beer on the counter and leaning on it.

Arthur glared at Francis. "Antonio's a stupid git." He huffed. "I mean it, I don't have a problem and even if I did, it's not anyone's business but my own."

"Oh stop whining and relax." Said Francis, straightening up. "I'm the last one to support a completely dry spell! In fact, I make it a point to have a glass of wine every night before bed." He winked and ran his hand through limp, blonde hair. "For my health you know."

"Oh…really?" said Arthur, feeling some of the tension dissolve a bit at that confession. "I'm honestly surprised someone in your position could afford that kind of routine."

Francis's smile didn't waver but seemed a little more solemn. "Ahh, Arthur." He sighed, tossing the beer through the air to Arthur, who caught it eagerly. "I didn't say it was a big glass and it certainly wasn't good wine. Still, much better than beer. It's no wonder you've got quite a belly."

The idea that Arthur was anything other than slim or fit deeply unsettled him, especially when he so frequently and harshly judged Alfred for his oblong waistline. He looked down in horror, as though to confirm to himself that he wasn't a whale that somehow learned on to walk on land. Arthur scoffed, glaring back up at Francis. "I most certainly do not have a belly!" he exclaimed, opening a beer.

FSSSH!

Swearing, Arthur stumbled back. His ingrained reflex of opening a beer as soon as it was in his hand had caused him to forget that Francis had shaken up and THROWN the beer at him, thus making him the victim of a very wet hand, beer overflowing onto his fingers and onto the floor.

Francis snickered into his hand. "There you are, half a beer sounds good enough to start you off"

"Mother of…You're going to clean this-!" snapped Arthur, but to his surprise, Francis had already taken a sponge from the sink and gone down onto hands and knees to sop up the puddle. He swallowed and looked down, bringing his hand up to lick the beads of beer up like a kitten. "Up…" he finished, stepping to the side so he was out of the others way. The can of beer felt so light. Damn him, all that wasted goodness. If Francis hadn't been in the room Arthur probably would have gone down and lapped it up off the floor until it was licked perfectly clean.

"Back when I tried to quit smoking." Said Francis, getting up to squeeze the sponge out in the sink and returning to clean the rest of the mess. "I'd bend them down the middle and make them into two pieces. So…one had a filter and the other didn't, but whenever I needed a smoke, I'd only take half." He stood up, squeezing the sponge into the sink a final time and getting a paper towel to dry his hands silently. After a moment Francis whispered softly, ominously as though he had been transported back to those dark times. "It was absolutely horrible."

"But!" he said, flipping moods like a coin, grinning at Arthur. "It was so much better than cold turkey. Literally too, have you ever tried it? Dry powdery meat and a gravy with a texture like jam. UGH! And that was back in Roubaix, I wouldn't risk my life trying the British version." He offered Arthur his own paper towel, for the hand still dripping with beer, his smile gentle. "But in any case, no more ashtrays…"

Arthur took the towel, crumbling it up in one hand, refusing to put down the beer to do a better job. "I suppose that makes a lot of sense." He said. "After all, it would only be foolish for someone who was homeless to continue wasting money on rancid cancer sticks when they should be saving up to get a home." He said, shrugging.

Francis's smile completely evaporated, replaced with an ugly look of disgust. "I can only agree…" he said with clenched teeth. "Just as foolish as someone destroying their liver and their children by overindulging in silly water."

Arthur stopped drinking in shock. Was that…supposed to be a dig at him? He slammed the empty can down on the counter and snarled, already irritated by the fact that he hadn't had enough. "Somehow I find it hard to imagine that you have the best interests of either my organs or my children in mind." He said after a moment of pondering, trying his best to keep his temper under control, squeezing the can.

"Oh, I believe that." Said Francis, looking up, his fingers tensely gripping the edge of the counter. "You have no imagination at all. You can't even imagine a world where you're a hopeless bum."

Arthur laughed hollowly, slowly approaching Francis, who stepped back. "Hate to remind you about it, but the only bum here is…YOU!" he shouted. Francis flinched, holding tightly onto the counter and remaining tight lipped.

"You don't even know the first thing about me to be reminding me about anything." Said Francis softly, staring right into Arthur's eyes.

"What is it? Huh?" chattered Arthur. "What exactly is Antonio's plan anyway?" Is it that I'm supposed to be inspired by your failures in life? Be reminded not to make the same mistakes you did?" he ranted, continuing to advance while Francis kept retreating backwards. "Am I supposed to just, look at you and think. 'Wow, if I don't shape up I'll end up like this hopeless miserable degenerate.' ?"

"There is nothing wrong with me." Said Francis firmly, straightening up and refusing to back away anymore. Arthur bumped into him, their chests touching. He stumbled and put his hand onto the counter, right over Francis's trembling fingers. As soon as they touched, Francis stopped feeling so afraid, pulling his hand away and folding his arms. "What happened to me was never my fault and it has nothing to do with this. It doesn't define who I am." Although Francis was speaking sternly, he didn't seem to be talking to Arthur at all, but rather appeared to be repeating a personal mantra. "I have a job, I earn money."

"So you have a job." Grumbled Arthur, smirking. "Tell me then…How have you managed to reach this age…and yet still don't even have your own house?"

Francis laughed. "Ah…so you mean to tell me that as soon as you could fling newspapers all of the sudden you could afford rent, food, electricity…"

"Of course not!" said Arthur, turning around and rubbing his head, still feeling a little achy. "That's foolish! But, that's because I had the help of my parents supporting me while I saved up enough money to move out! So I want to know what exactly is SOOOO special about-" Arthur paused, stopping in his tracks.

Just like that night that he had gone into the car, Arthur had made another verbal slip thanks to intoxication meddling with his mind. Changing things around and rerouting neurons. Making him temporarily believe things that weren't true even though they should have been. Say things that were only half right. He had a wife. He had the help of his parent. More specifically, his father. Even more technically, saying that Arthur's father had "helped" him, was being extremely generous. Arthur turned around, wobbling on the spot.

"I'm sorry." He said, staring at the floor. It had become shiny where Francis had cleaned it, enough to highlight the fact that the rest of the kitchen, which had seemed fine at first, was wretchedly filthy and needed a good mop. Arthur could see his desolate reflection on the floor, face distorted by the extreme perspective so that he could see all of his worst flaws clearly. He couldn't stand looking at himself. He didn't think he could meet Francis' eye.

"It's alright." Said Francis shakily, which made Arthur feel even worse, knowing that his childish drunken outburst had had an effect on the other, even if Francis was trying to hide it. It wasn't alright, it would never be. When Arthur lifted his gaze up just a bit, he caught sight of the lucky cat teapot in the corner of the counter. It would never be alright, okay, good, or even fine. Not when everywhere he looked, he was reminded of the absolute devastation that was his life. He covered his face.

"Please make some supper…The kids will be home soon." He mumbled, slinking out back to his bedroom, where at least he could return to a nightmare that wasn't real.

* * *

><p>Notes: Thank you all for being so patient and your constant feedback on this story. Like I said, it really makes me so happy to hear that you guys enjoy it so much. Please remember to recommend this story to your friends, leave a review on what you found interesting about this chapter and last but not least add it to your favorites and subscribe so you can be notified when it updates! Without you guys, this story would never have made it off the ground.<p>

So for one thing, this chapter was not only very long, I actually rewrote it about 3 different times to get the right feel with the rest of the story and make it coherent. I won't get into it too much just yet...but let's just say that the inspiration for this story comes from a personal level. I'm sure you can imagine how it can be difficult at times. (Not implying that writing this story is a problem, it's in fact therapeutic, it's the environment that's an issue.) Those who follow my tumblr (fruk-this) may instantly know what I'm talking about and I thank you all for your support.

In any case, thanks a lot for reading, please come back in a few weeks for Chapter 9 for some more drama between Arthur and Francis!


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